New Town
by Self Confessed Muso
Summary: Bella Swan craves patterns. Her entire life is compiled of them. As a university student pursuing her love of music in Sydney's Conserveatorium, Bella's world has become black and white. Well, that was until Edward Cullen disrupted it. AH, OOC, CC.


**Well, at 11:35 pm last night I started writing this, much to the dismay of my sister (a few swear words were invovled as she demanded I turn off the light). I obviously didn't and now you have what is sitting before you right now! :D **

**I really like how this turned out so I just hope *crosses fingers, toes, eyes, legs and arms* that you like it too.**

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**Chapter One**

**Morning Prelude**

Call it fate or even luck but, I knew, on that particular lazy Sunday I was meant to be sitting in Bel Latte. It was a quaint, little coffee shop hidden to most in the busy streets of Sydney. I had frequented it for years, its privacy and atmosphere drawing me to its white washed walls and soothing music. As a university student it had become a place for me to think and to gather my thoughts as I sipped a cup of coffee from my booth, watching business men and women in their expensive looking suits scurry back and forth in the street outside.

I was reading the latest headlines in the paper, a ritual for me as I had my breakfast in Bel Latte's confines. Another political drama, another fatal car crash; it was all very repetitive. I sighed, my brown eyes scanning the black and white pages before I folded it and placed it back on the table in front of me. It was all very much the same, and I couldn't help but notice the similarities between the predictability of the paper and that of my life. It, my life, had taken on a pattern. It was familiar and comfortable now, as most patterns are. They are safe, predictable.

My days unfolded in a very simple manner; Wake up, walk to Bel Latte to have breakfast, walk to the conservatory of music, complete my classes, walk home, practice cello, flute and piano for an hour, read a book and go to bed at exactly ten o'clock.

Sometimes if Alice and Rosalie managed to convince me, and by convince I mean force, I would accompany them to a night on the town. But I normally shied away from clubbing, preferring to remain a wall flower. I loved my friends dearly but they were much more confident and exuberant than I was so it was difficult to keep my enthusiasm up to the same level as their own.

So as per usual, I found myself in Bel Latte beginning to execute the first steps of my pattern once more.

"Would you like me to refill ya cuppa, Miss Swan?" the elderly gentleman behind the counter asked me with a Scottish drawl. Hamish and I had known each other for quite some time now, exchanging pleasantries and tad bits of information about our plans for the day as I bought my breakfast each morning. Despite my plans never changing, he asked each morning. I think he hoped there would be a change, even a minute one. If that was the case, I always disappointed him.

"No thank you, Hamish. I was just finishing up anyway," I smiled, nodding to him politely. Just as I began gathering my things the bell on the café's door tinkled. I thought nothing of it but almost instantaneously I knew, or rather felt that something was different. The air in Bel Latte was now alive, as if volts of electricity were pulsing through it.

"Um, hello, I was wondering if you had coffee to-go?" the velvet voice asked, a rich baratone which made me feel like a puddle.

I kept my head and eyes downward, even though every cell in my body screamed to look up.

"Ah, why I believe we do!" Hamish answered.

My mind locked onto the door, singling it out as a route of escape. This was dangerous, this was not in my routine. I had to get away from this interruption as soon as possible. I could do that, as soon as I paid my bill.

_Crap._

I huffed. Great, I was going to have to go to the counter. Squaring my shoulders and straightening my white blouse, I looked up. And just about stopped breathing at the sight in front of me.

There, leaning against the counter on his elbows, was the most gorgeous man I had ever laid eyes upon. He wore denim jeans, which the functioning part of my brain noted were designer, that hung low on his hips just taunting me further. His outfit was completed by a pair of worn skate shoes and a black t-shirt.

_What an ass._

The man turned towards me, a smirk tugging at his lips and his green eyes dancing with amusement.

I felt the warmth spreading across my cheeks as my tell tale blush set in. _Crap, I said that out loud, didn't I?_

If I did, the god in front of me made no sign of acknowledging it much to my relief. Lord knew I didn't need that much embarrassment this early on a Sunday.

I knew I shouldn't be, but I couldn't stop my eyes as the traveled from the floor up taking him in. Well, I guess you could say checking him out but I'd rather keep my dignity intact. I never did that, checked guys out, since most of them never really appealed to me. They were just another time consumer and that was the last thing I needed.

The man had a chiseled jaw, angular with a faint shadow of stubble across it. His hair was total disarray, having that just-rolled-out-of-bed appearance to it.

_Yeah right, I know you're thinking of something else it looks like. _

I coughed, trying to hide the embarrassment my inner dialogue caused me. My inner dialogue! Geez, even it could embarrass me now.

Mistaking my cough as an announcement of my presence, Adonis himself extended his hand out to me.

"Excuse me for my lack of manners," he chuckled, "I'm Edward." Ah so he had a name. It suited him too, my brain concluded.

I just stood there, probably drooling too, until my brain – which I was seriously doubting its functioning abilities – kicked into motion and I finally was able to lift up my hand to shake his. His skin was _so_ soft.

_I wonder if he uses __lotion._

He smiled again and I think I the expression on my face was somewhere between 'holy-mother-of-pearl-I've-just-died-and-gone-to-heaven' and 'dayum'.

"I'm Bella." I tried to say confidently, thinking about how Rosalie would conduct herself in a situation like this. Oh who am I kidding, Rosalie was a blonde bombshell. And I was, well, me.

We stared at each other, brown meeting green, our hands still grasping for a tad longer than necessary. We probably would have stayed like this for quite some time, oblivious to the world around us, if it weren't for Hamish and his barking Scottish voice. Bless his soul.

"Here's the coffee you wanted, Lad." Hamish drawled out, placing the Styrofoam cup of coffee on the counter. He nodded towards it, as if to point it out in case Edward hadn't noticed it.

"Ah, Miss Swan, I believe you'll be paying now?" He turned to me, mischief just floating around him in an aurora. That sneaky bastard, he just gave Edward my last name.

Edward motioned for me to pay first as he picked up the luke warm coffee. I pulled out my worn wallet, handing the exact amount of money over to Hamish. I smiled at him sweetly, too sweetly. He knew what he'd done and I was certain it was intentional.

"Thank you, Lass." He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I bowed my head thanking him, before adjusting my book bag on my shoulder. I didn't bother saying good bye to Edward, not wanting to push my luck. Knowing me I'd probably say something extremely inappropriate by mistake.

He smiled at me, holding his hand up to wave me off.

Just as I opened the door, a cool gust of autumn wind hitting my face, I over heard Edward talking to Hamish.

"Well, she looks interesting."

"Ai, she is."

"It's a pity I didn't grab her number." He grumbled.

"Ah, look on the bright side, Lad. She comes here every mornin'. And don't worry your little heart about getting her number 'cause she'll probably give it to ya tomorra'."

"Why is that, Hamish?"

"Ai, she said you have a good ass."

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**So, what did you think? **

***cough*review*cough* (please).**


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